Today was Day 1 of my bootcamp experience, the one that I decided to sign up for when I realized that I had those hips. You know, the ones where it looks as though someone has taken two stuffed pork chops and slapped them on to your hips? At this point you no longer look curvy, you just look like an ever-widening Y. I’d had just about enough of that crap.

So, before I could talk myself out of it, I signed up for bootcamp, a 3-day-a-week torture experience in the park that starts at the ungodly – and I really do mean ungodly, unholy and downright illegal – hour of 5:30 a.m. I have never been one to be awake at that hour unless it meant I hadn’t yet gone to sleep from the night before. So this, too, should give you some idea of my desperation.

I can’t claim to be proud of myself first day out. The fact that women literally twice my size were passing me as we lunged and high-stepped our way across the soccer field was…well, damn it, it was downright embarrassing. I mean, cardio has never been my strong suit, but apparently it’s not even in my friggin’ closet. I will be needing to work on that. I felt like a beached whale, gasping for breath and gulping down insane amounts of water every two minutes as though I’d just run through the Sahara. Awful!

Even worse, however, was that I got so lightheaded I had to sit down. And not just once either.

The woman next to me, a woman named Mary who seems absolutely lovely but really should be shot for being that cheerful and in shape at that hour of the morning, kindly asked me if I’d eaten. I managed to signal to her that I had indeed eaten. I mean, really, do I look that stupid?

Of course, as I stumbled into my kitchen in search of food afterwards, I realized that yes, I am that stupid. In my haste to get out of the door and be on time, I’d done everything except snatch some food, even the handful of nuts-and-raisin mix that I’d bought and left on the counter specifically because our trainer had mentioned that as a good go-to food in the early a.m.

Speaking of trainers, I want to be her when I grow up. She’s tight, she’s in fab shape, you can see veins in her arms when she does pushups…sigh. So. Long. To. Go.

I tried to think of some sort of incentive. Not that getting in shape shouldn’t be enough, and it is. I really want to do this for myself, and for my kids.

But that’s so vague (which is probably how most people can pooh-pooh the whole getting in shape thing, because the threats are so vague, until you have a stroke or get diabetes, either of which can have a wonderfully clarifying effect.)

So, with typical American consumerism, I’m trying to think – what can I get myself if when I see this thing through (and see some results, because really, no changes and I don’t deserve anything).

iPhone? The Tech Guru will inevitably upgrade and I’ll probably inherit the old one and that’s okay by me.

New computer? Possible; there are so many keys missing from this one that I’m typing from sheer memory here.

I’ve been thinking about it but nothing is really floating my boat. Maybe getting in shape is enough.

I have so many books and even considered joining the new LA FITNESS that just opened up out here, but I realized that, aside from my concerns about them being total scam artists when it came to canceling your membership, I would probably do the usual – pay them and not go. I finally got back to doing it the way I used to, which was having another living breathing person who would push me past my limits and also make my ass show up. If you miss a day of bootcamp without a damn good excuse and prior notice, you have to do 20 pushups. Which is not insane by any means, but I think the embarrassment factor also helps…